


Breaking Through Your Defenses

by kibouin



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Everyone Needs A Hug, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-18 14:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7318540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kibouin/pseuds/kibouin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Fool me once, shame on me”. Not wanting to be fooled twice, Bucky Barnes decided dating was no longer a priority—maybe not even a necessity. His resolution wavered, however, when a certain transfer student swept into his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I checked the [AO3 Feed](http://ao3feed-tchucky.tumblr.com/) for this pairing and saw the recent installments were also School AUs. Well, have another one~  
> (this has been eating at my soul since the start of the month—here's to being free l̶i̶e̶s̶)

Bucky stopped in front of an abandoned building, checking over his reflection in one of its remaining windows. He didn’t look too worse for wear. If he took his hair out of its small ponytail, he could hide the bruises already forming around his neck. Once Steve caught sight of them, however, he would until they were home before giving him on of his famous judgmental stares. Sarah may or may not treat his bruises. The easy way out was skipping school, but the Academy was kind enough to put up with him and his mood swings.

**-x-x-**

Bucky hid in the bathroom as he waited for homeroom to end. From there, he would sneak into the first class. He was actually glad he wore his prosthetic arm today; it made freshening himself up a little bit easier. Ducking down to splash a few more handfuls of water over his face, Bucky sensed a new presence join him in the bathroom and instinctively flung water in their direction as a distraction before swinging out with his flesh and blood arm.

Rather than it being caught, his fist was easily deflected. Bucky squeezed himself between the sinks, arms raised to defend himself, and gave the stranger his full attention. Tall, dark, and handsome stood before him; they were roughly the same height, so "tall" could be removed from the description. “All students are supposed to be in class.” Bucky reluctantly dropped his arms, eyes narrowing. “Who’re you?” he muttered.

The other teen wiped a few droplets of water off of his navy blue summer sweater before staring at the brunet trapped between the sinks. He took a step forward, but the wild look that caused those slate blue eyes to grow wide and bright made him take two steps back. He offered the teen a disarming smile before turning his own words back on him. “If all students are supposed to be in class, why are you hiding in the bathroom?”

Bucky opened his mouth. When none of his famous retorts came to his aid, he snapped it shut and wiggled free of the sinks. When the stranger stepped back to make room, all hope of gaining a new friend sank through the floor. ‘ _He’s like them. He’s disgusted by my arm—or lack of…_ ’ Bucky washed his hands and angrily snatched a few pieces of paper from the dispenser.

“May I ask you name?” stopped him from storming out of the bathroom.

Bucky glanced over his shoulder. “James Buchanan Barnes. Friends call me ‘Bucky’.”

“James.”

Dark and Handsome’s smile as he tested the name made Bucky send a thankful prayer to his parents for giving it to him. Bucky felt a shiver dance down his spine and he bolted from the bathroom for different reasons. Luckily enough, the bell rang to signal the end of homeroom and he easily slipped into the crowds of students suddenly filling the hallways.

Bucky’s first class was a Government and Civics class. He settled into his desk in the corner of the room. His mind was too preoccupied to focus on the rest of the classroom and its students, so he opted to stare out of the window at the world beyond the campus. Lost in his temporary freedom, Bucky missed the introduction of a new student. The bell jolted him back to reality and he almost fell out of his seat after noticing the desk next to his was now occupied.

Dark and Handsome smiled at his behavior. “You ran out before I could introduce myself. My name is T’Challa. I’d like to keep calling you James, if you don’t mind?”

Bucky wanted to ask why he wanted to be friends with him, instead he wordlessly shook his head, never more thankful that none of his other friends shared this class with him. The teasing would be endless.

Government lessons ended too soon and Bucky expected T’Challa to bolt like the other students, but he stuck around, waiting for him to finish stuffing his books into his backpack. Bucky slung it on over his right shoulder, shooting T’Challa a confused glare. “You won’t make any new friends if you hang out with me, y’know.”

“I beg to differ,” T’Challa argued, his brows furrowed in thought. “I didn’t transfer to this school to make friends, but I’m glad that I’ve already found one.”

Eyes wide, Bucky found he had no control over the heat he felt rising into his cheeks. He looked away quickly before his blush fully bloomed and kicked his chair under the desk. Bucky was certain some kind soul would confront the transfer student and warn him about his friends and how unlucky it would be to get caught talking to Bucky Barnes.

A certain incident during his Freshman year left Bucky the talk of the school. Faculty couldn't suspend the entire student body, so verbal reprimands had to do. Until the day Natalia “I like to go by ‘Natasha’” Romanova stepped onto the stage during an assembly, wearing a form-fitting grey t-shirt that read: B – Bucky, B – Barnes, D – Defense, S – Squad in dark letters.

Now people avoided him for fear of invoking the wrath of the BBDS. “ _That means they don’t wish to be your friend,_ zvyozdochka ¹,” _Natasha pointed out during a study pile that had somehow devolved into a cuddle pile, her fingers combing through his hair._

For now, Bucky would be selfish and enjoy T’Challa’s kindness.

**-x-x-**

T’Challa parted ways with Bucky Barnes before the start of his second class.

Today’s visit to Avengers Academy was to get a feel of the school and decide if he wanted to stay, but T’Challa found himself following the teen that acted in self-defense against him in the restroom.  He stopped the teacher as she entered and explained his situation before asking if he could sit in on her class. She agreed wholeheartedly. T’Challa spent his entire introduction staring at Bucky, who seemed to be finding the outside world much more interesting than the classroom.

Which is why T’Challa knew Bucky was being honest with him. Bucky Barnes didn’t know he was the prince of Wakanda and left all the barbs in his words as they walked down the hallway after class. The grin thrown in his direction when they had to part ways was what cinched T’Challa’s decision. His mother wanted him to get a better understanding of the rest of the world from an insider’s point of view, and by the Panther God, he was going to.

* * *

  
Gossip spread like wildfires around school and Bucky found himself surrounded by his friends; the founders of the BBDS and its supporting members. “We’ve had to do a lotta ass-whupping, Barnes,” Tony accuses, chewing on the tiny straw that came with the boxed drink. Natasha always gave him one and who was he to say no to the deadly Russian?

Today, they were eating inside the cafeteria. Bucky looked around the table with a confused expression. “So we’re bullying people now?”

Tony managed to point the straw, still in his mouth, angrily at the older teen.

Sam sighed, resisting the urge to yank it out and throw it halfway across the cafeteria. “Everyone’s talking ‘bout how you’re always hanging out with the prince. They think…” He didn’t want to repeat some of what he’d heard over the past week.

Bucky huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Now I know you’re all crazy. I haven’t been hangin’ out with a prince.”

Rhodey and Natasha share a glance, Steve and Sam share a glance, and Tony just keeps glaring at Bucky. “Tall, dark, and handsome,” Stark finally sighed, bored with beating around the bush. “You walk around campus with him without an official BBDS inspection.”

Bucky’s eyes widened after hearing the same description he’d given T’Challa during their first confrontation.

Steve was the one that reached over and pulled the straw from Tony’s mouth when the kid actually started choking on it. “He didn’t know!” Tony wheezed, hunched over the table.

Bucky imitated a catfish. “He’s… The transfer student. He’s a prince?”

“Buck,” Steve sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “How could you not know?”

“He didn’t say,” Bucky sputtered, looking at the varying faces of incredulity presented to him. He looked away to the tabletop, thoughts immediately going back to their first “unofficial” meeting. “Oh, God. I tried to beat him up in the bathroom.”

Tony howled with laughter. Natasha smiled. Steve looked horrified. Sam looked amused. Rhodey looked curious.

“I didn’t see him,” Bucky offered in explanation. “And he walked up behind me… But he only wanted to use the sink.” His head fell into his hands, groan muffled. He could only _imagine_ what was being said about him.

“It’s all right, _rybka_ ².”

Bucky threw Natasha a weak smile. He couldn’t be selfish with royalty.

**-x-x-**

T’Challa joined Bucky at his locker and immediately realized he’d been found out. The other teen barely glanced at him out of the corner of his eye before attempting to crawl into the small locker as he collected his belongings. “Does it matter?” he questioned, skipping the unnecessary small talk that would have preceded his question

“Yes,” Bucky mumbled, pushing books in while taking new ones out. “I’m not…” His fingers tightened around his Pre-Cal textbook. “You’re a _prince_.”

“And if I tell you it doesn’t matter to me?” T’Challa leaned his shoulder against the adjacent locker, waiting for Bucky to even acknowledge him. “It’s just a title. I’m just another kid, just like you. Just like them.” He nodded his head at the other students that passed them by. “I enjoy your company, James, and I thought you enjoyed having me around as well.”

Bucky slammed his locker shut, pressing his forehead against the cool metal of the closed door. “’s been a while since I’ve had so much fun,” he admitted, his voice one tenor from sounding broken. “And that’s why I was prepared for it to go to shit soon enough.”

Still leaning against the row of lockers, T’Challa crossed his arms over his chest. “Who’s to say things are going to shit?” He felt proud knowing he put the trembling smile on Bucky’s lips.

“It’s started,” Bucky sighed. “I’ve already corrupted a prince.”

T’Challa heard what the other students whispered about Barnes, courtesy of his bodyguards, and immediately washed his hands of them if-and-when they tried to approach him to play nice. He also knew about the BBDS courtesy of a sandy-haired blond that threatened him in a roundabout manner, _with_ a wide grin on his face. Clint Barton, is the name Ayo delivered to him.

Bucky turned and mirrored T’Challa’s relaxed stance, holding his backpack against his chest instead of crossing his arms. “If you’re royalty, then the two hot, yet very terrifying girls following you around are…?”

“My bodyguards,” T’Challa answered with a very amused smile.

Instead of the look of disbelief everyone else normally gave him after hearing about Ayo and Aneka, Bucky nodded in understanding. “Sounds ‘bout right. I started learning MMA from someone younger than me. She kicked my ass six ways to Sunday, then sat down beside me on the floor and told me what I did wrong and how to fix it.”

Bucky’s expression softened and T’Challa almost felt jealous, but he knew Bucky thought of the woman with nothing but respect.

Bucky suddenly jumped away from the locker, swinging his backpack onto his right shoulder. “Thinking about Peggy reminded me that I have practice today. You should check it out. That is, if it won’t get in the way of your princely schedule.” A cheeky grin accompanied the statement.

“Glad to see you’ve gotten over your fear of being seen with me.”

“I was looking out for your reputation, man, but if you want to ruin it…” Bucky trailed off, walking backwards with his arms spread as wide as the grin on his face. “I’m your man.”

“I would like that.”

They both froze on the spot, T’Challa berating himself for letting his thoughts slip out so easily. Bucky still had his arms suspended in the air. Gone was his grin, replaced by an unreadable expression on his face. Slowly, he lowered his arm, readjusting his backpack on his shoulder.

“Do… you really mean that?”

Bucky’s voice was so soft and hopeful, T’Challa had to force himself to stay rooted in place. His father had once told him: _Enjoy the life of a young prince to the fullest. When you meet **the one** , you don’t want to ever look back_. How right he was. But T’Challa wanted to enjoy his life as a young prince _with_ Bucky. He casually tucked his hands behind his back, and spoke nothing but the truth, “I do. I mean it.”

Bucky exhaled in a shuddering breath, lips twitching into a faint smile. “C’mon. Watch me practice then.”

 **-x-x-**  

T’Challa officially met Natasha that afternoon. He watched her converse with Bucky, who hung off the ropes of the boxing ring. After several minutes, Bucky opened his mouth and Natasha slipped in a mouth guard. The redhead then sauntered over to T’Challa, arms crossed over her chest.

“He asked for an offensive match. He usually only does that when he’s showing off.”

Bucky only proved her point when he waved in their direction, grinning wide around his mouth guard.

“Your tactics may work on the other students,” T’Challa began after Bucky turned away. He glanced at the petite teen by his side. “But they won’t on me. I also have people to make sure you don’t act on your threats.” He watched her gaze shift left then right, taking in his bodyguards’ sudden appearances. Those emerald eyes were soon fixed on him, along with a dangerous smile.

“I like you, prince.” There was an underlying message of _let’s keep it that way—don’t do anything stupid_.

One down. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¹ zvyozdochka - little star  
> ² rybka - little fish 
> 
> ...is what the internet tells me. I hide over on [tumblr](http://kibouin.tumblr.com), lurking, re-blogging.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …nngh. This took too long. I thought I’d had everything written, but I had to make a whole ‘nother chapter. Especially since I didn't want it "jumbled and confusing" (I actually think I made it worse, ha!) 
> 
> Let’s hope things go smoothly from now on. For the boys and for me.

T’Challa was in the middle of avoiding Ayo’s staff when his appointed guardian announced he had a phone call. He took a long sip from his water bottle before excusing himself and quickly exiting the gym. Ayo twirled the staff, arching an inviting eyebrow at the man left behind. With a nonchalant shrug, he shed his jacket, tossed it onto the nearest surface, and rolled up his sleeves. He was as much a warrior as the young prince—no point wasting a training opportunity.  

T’Challa entered the room appointed to him and made a beeline for the desk. He retrieved the tablet resting there, took a seat at the end of the bed, and pulled up the phone call. He made no effort to hide his surprise when his little sister’s face appeared on the screen.

“ _Brother_!” Shuri greeted excitedly.

“Shuri.” T’Challa’s expression relaxed into a warm smile. “It’s good to see you. How are things going?”

“It’s the same things you experienced at my age,” Shuri sighed with the slightest roll of her eye. “Tell me about the Americas.” Shuri’s face now took up his tablet’s entire screen, eyes sparkling as she waited to hear tales of the world outside their nation.

“The United States of America,” T’Challa corrected. Shuri huffed at him impatiently and he laughed. “What would you like to hear about?”

T’Challa lost track of how long they talked, but a familiar voice interrupted Shuri’s next onslaught of questions. He watched his sister respectfully duck her head before she gave him a wide smile. “Have fun, brother.”

“You as well, Shuri.”

Shuri disappeared from view. The background visible through his tablet shifted, the designs on the far wall rising higher, before the monitor was fixed into a better and more comfortable position for the new user. T’Challa mimicked Shuri’s earlier bow. “Mother,” he greeted.

An older woman smiled warmly at him, her salt and peppered dreadlocks pulled back into a neat ponytail. Ramonda was the second wife of the late King of Wakanda, and T’Challa’s surrogate mother. “T’Challa, my son. Shuri asked most of my questions already. It sounds like you’ve acclimatized seamlessly.” Her eyes brightened and she shared the news before T’Challa could inquire. “B’Tumba was sent to Europe to study abroad as you’re doing.”

T’Challa grinned at the mention of his childhood friend. “It’s a shame we’re not together in the same location. I hope he’s doing as well as I am.”

“I’m sure he is.” Ramonda leaned forward, her expression calculating. She sat back, lips curled into an amused smile. “Probably not _as_ well. I’ve raised you since you were a babe, T’Challa. You were pensive about our decision to send you to the U.S, but there’s a lightness about you now. Will you tell me who it is?”

T’Challa averted his eyes, gaze falling on the smooth blue beads that encircled his wrist. He smiled, remembering James’ honest curiosity as he asked about the beaded bracelet. Ayo, Aneka, T’Challa—most everyone in Wakanda wore the bracelet. “His name is James Barnes,” he murmured, still thinking over the memory. “He’s a mystery, mother,” T’Challa suddenly chuckled. “A wonderful one, and I think it’ll be worth the wait of solving his many layers.” Bucky was strong and T’Challa needed him to understand that. T’Challa was willing to wait for Bucky to accept him.

Ramonda saw and heard all she needed know. The young prince was indeed in love. “T’Challa.”

T’Challa adjusted the tablet in his lap so he smiled down at the Queen Mother.

“I would love to meet him.”

Ramonda’s sigh was hopeful and T’Challa was already mentally drafting a proposal to give to Nick Fury on why he needed the Bucky Barnes Defense Squad to join him in Wakanda for a visit. Bucky Barnes himself would be a necessity.

“I would also like you to meet him, mother.”

Goodbyes were exchange shortly afterwards and T’Challa set the tablet beside him once the call had ended. He fell backwards onto the mattress, covering his face with both arms. T’Challa had never felt this way before. The attraction was all-consuming; it was exhilarating. With a laugh, he sprang up and left his room to find Aneka or Ayo. A good sparring session would help him burn off some of this energy.

* * *

“We’re still not officially meeting your prince?” Clint bit loudly into a celery stick after asking his question. He sat across from Bucky, Natasha at his right side. It was only the three of them seated in the cafeteria today.

Bucky ducked his head with a muttered, “He’s not _my_ prince. Just a prince.”

“Uh-huh.” Clint finished his celery noisily, and with a bored expression. “At some point, I went from spying on him to being spied on, so I called it quits. He’s the real deal, though, and those bodyguards of his are _good_.”

Natasha stole a celery stalk from the pile and Bucky stared in amazement as she ate it without making a single sound. “Maybe you’re just too loud and terrible at being a spy,” the redhead suggested, reaching for another piece of celery. This time there was a loud crunch when she bit into the piece of vegetable.

Bucky shook his head, knowing that it wouldn’t rid him of the weirdness of his friends, and returned to his own simple sandwich. He could feel a smile creep onto his face, and chewed more vigorously to hide it. Had it been anyone else with him at the table, the gesture might have gone unnoticed. Unfortunately, he ate with spies in training.

Natasha hummed, “If anyone can make him smile like that, maybe we should forgo the official meet and greet from the squad. Besides, I already gave him my version of a shovel talk.”

Clint grinned proudly. “I gave him the genuine shovel talk, _before_ they even started this weird dance of not-dating.”

“Can we change the subject?” Bucky sighed. As much as he enjoyed his time spent with T’Challa, they hadn’t fully discussed if they were to become an _item_ or not. Bucky still believed T’Challa would realize the error of his ways and move on to someone less broken. Something hit him directly between his eyes—on the bridge of his nose, pulling him from his thoughts. A half-bitten baby carrot rolled to a stop next to his hand.

The culprit was Clint, who grinned unashamedly. “’m not sorry at all. It was one of several ways to stop thinking so loudly. The other options weren’t as funny.”

Bucky smiled half-heartedly. A boxed drink was shoved into his face, courtesy of Natasha, and he couldn’t help but laugh as he accepted it. “Where do you get these things?”

“Home,” Natasha replied innocently.

“Tony’s hooked on ‘em, y’know.”

The redhead’s smile gave away nothing. Bucky stabbed the straw through the opening and took short sips.

Belatedly, Clint jumped on Bucky’s request for a change of subject and struck up a new conversation. He stated that he planted a seed in the vice principal’s head; a casual suggestion about getting an archery range built. “Now I just hafta harass Coulson about it every day. He’ll either have me expelled or ask Fury to build a range just to get me to shut up.”

“I can see that happening.” Tony dropped into the chair next to Bucky. He noticed the drink in his hands and pouted at Natasha. Of course there was one waiting for him, and he readily accepted it. He angled his body so he was able to lean back against Bucky’s right shoulder for support. “Why do you want an archery range? You’re already a substitute member on every club the school has.”

“Not every club,” Clint scoffed. “No wrestling for me. And I won’t be joining you and the rest of your science bros in the nerd club.”

Tony sighed deeply. “There’s no room for you in the nerd club anyway. My ego’s too big.”

“He admits it,” Bucky laughed, playfully jostling Tony. The young Junior whined loudly until his human support settled back down.

Clint ignored their antics in favor of answering Tony’s previous question. “Me and Barney went to the circus last week, and there was this amazing archer doin’ all sorts ‘a neat shots while flipping, hanging from the trapeze—everything!” Clint’s hands became animated whenever he found a subject that excited him. “Bucky has his wrestling, Nat has her ballet, Tony has his big ass brain, Steve has his art. Rhodey and Sam practically own the ROTC. I thought, maybe that’s my shtick, yanno. Archery. Never really been too invested in anything else before.” His hands slowed, his grin dimming to a smile.

“I think you’ll excel at it,” Natasha praised. Clint’s smile regained some of its wattage. “If you’d like, I can talk to the Principal—”

“Nope,” the blond interrupted, puffing his chest out in a proud, yet comedic fashion. “I want to make this happen on my own. Even if it means Coulson dumping my body in the desert somewhere after I get on his last nerve. Let my tombstone read: _died fighting for his passion—archery_.”

Tony snorted around the thin straw he absently chewed, and Bucky shook his head.

“Besides!” Clint clapped loudly before spreading his arms wide. “I still have to practice. I found a community center that has classes, but it’s only every other Saturday. Maybe by our Senior year they’ll build it. I should be ready then, right?”

The conversation continued about Clint’s newfound passion for archery for another ten minutes before Tony changed the subject. Bucky drifted in and out, responding when asked an opinion, but he was too focused on his own errant thoughts to contribute more than that. Clint’s determination sparked something in him. Maybe he would talk with T’Challa at the end of the school day. Maybe… it was time to make them an “official” couple.

 **-x-x-**  

Bucky didn’t even bother pulling on his backpack as he raced from his final class. He gripped its handles tightly in his right hand, carefully darting through moving and stationary bodies in order to reach the music building. It was where T’Challa agreed to meet him.

Bucky spotted the prince standing outside, but he was talking with someone. He slowed his jogging to a curious walk, trying not to be too obvious by craning his neck. The stranger solved the problem for him by turning around. Bucky’s backpack slipped from his fingers, wide eyes staring at a familiar face.

Brock Rumlow was talking to T’Challa. Why? _Why_?

Bucky’s eyes darted back and forth between the two. T’Challa, who looked concerned; Rumlow, who looked close to laughing at Bucky’s oncoming panic attack. Brock turned back to T’Challa, exchanging a few words with him, before starting across the yard. Bucky stumbled backwards, almost tripping over his own backpack.

When Brock finally reached Bucky, he _was_ laughing, but he still had a show to put on for the prince. He took Bucky’s left hand, gently turning it to and fro as he examined it. “You got it upgraded.” His voice was low, meant only for Bucky. “Guess that was the only choice considering what happened to the first one. I’m sorry about that, by the way.” Brock lifted the false limb, pressing his lips to the back of the synthetic skin.

“You’re not,” Bucky choked out, slowly pulling his arm out of the lax grip.

Brock’s grin was downright predatory. “I’m not,” he chuckled. “But I see you managed to find someone new to take pity on you. He’s not part of your little group, is he? Of course not. He’s royalty. Other than Stark, you’re all just a bunch of sewer rats.”

Bucky snapped, lashing out with his right arm. His fist never connected, and trembled just an inch from Rumlow’s face. T’Challa held his wrist firmly, but gently.

“Mr. Rumlow,” T’Challa began, a warning edge to his voice. “I apologize for interrupting your trip down memory lane, but it doesn’t look like a pleasant one. Tell your school I have no interest. I shall also inform you that I have bodyguards who will gladly retain you if you attempt to contact myself or James.”

Brock outright cackled. “ _James_. Wow. You really found a good one this time, Barnes.” Hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, Rumlow executed a mock bow. “Your Highness.” He straightened up, looked between the pair, and let out an inelegant snort. Brock turned and sauntered away.

The second Brock left his line of vision, Bucky sagged against T’Challa, his breath coming out in soft pants. A warm hand curled around the back of his neck and Bucky bit back a sob. Brock Rumlow shouldn’t have this much of an effect on him, but here he was, breaking down from a panic attack.

‘ _Sarah loves me. Steve loves me. Natasha loves me. Sarah loves me. Steve loves me. Natasha loves me. Sarah loves me. Steve loves me. Natasha loves me._ ’ Bucky inhaled slowly. ‘ _Sam likes me. Clint likes me. They would never betray me. Sam likes me. Clint likes me… Steve loves me._ ’ Bucky exhaled deeply, eyes fluttering open.

The ground was much closer now, and a pair of black-clad legs framed his own jean-covered legs. There was also a solid warmth along the length of his back. Twisting around, Bucky found T’Challa smiling at him. He scooted out of the loose embrace and scrambled his feet. T’Challa was already standing when he finished dusting off his jeans. “Sorry,” Bucky mumbled, shuffling over to his fallen backpack.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” T’Challa pointed out.

“Yes I do!” Bucky snatched up his bag, clutching it tightly. “Everyone’s gonna start making fun of you now.”

T’Challa lifted an eyebrow, his lips quirked in an amused smirk. “I doubt that. And even if they did, I know who I am.”

“Yeah, well… I told you shit was gonna hit the fan.” Bucky pulled on his backpack, snapping the clasps together over his chest. “I can’t… I can’t do this, I’m sorry.” He said what he needed to. There was no reason for him to stick around. Bucky took off running, not bothering to look back.

**-x-x-**

When Steve made it home that afternoon, he found Bucky on the floor of their shared bedroom, successfully wedged between his bed and the nightstand. He dropped everything and fell to his knees in front of his brother. Bucky heard a distance voice calling out to him and drew himself inward even tighter. His left arm was under the bed and his right arm was curled around his head to banish the thoughts and voices that resurfaced after seeing Brock again.  

It took almost an hour to coax Bucky off of the floor and into bed. Steve kicked off his shoes before climbing in right after him.

Hours later, after coming home from her last shift, Sarah gently pushed the door to the boys’ bedroom. She ended up opening it all the way when Steve’s empty bed greeted her. Sarah’s smile was bittersweet after locating Steve. Her son shared Bucky’s bed with his adopted brother, curled as tightly around him as his small body could go. Sarah whispered ‘good night’ and left the door slightly ajar, before heading across the hall to her own room. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t have any set release dates, but this was delayed because I lost half of it in freak “autosave, no I didn’t save” Micro-Word accident. I sulked for a week, tried to write and failed another week, and now… finally I feel good about what I managed to replace it with. Hope those of you reading feel the same way about the chapter~ *bow*
> 
> Guess who hits Ctrl+S every time she stops to take a breather? *taps chest*

Steve made an affronted sound after being jostled, a long black streak now scrawled across the page of his sketchbook. He turned to glare at the culprit and found Bucky now settled beside him on the blanket he’d spread out on the campus’s grassy quad.

“You’ll survive,” Bucky muttered, unclasping his book bag to pull it over his shoulder and into his lap. “It’s charcoal, just… smudge it around or somethin’.”

“It’s great to hear how much you appreciate my art,” Steve sighed, staring at the line with the hopes of finding a fix for it. He reached down, stopping himself after realizing he was just about to “smudge it around”. He peeked at his friend out of the corner of his eye, but Bucky’s gaze was steadfastly fixed elsewhere. Steve sat up straight, easing his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose, and tried to find what caught Bucky’s attention.

After a few sweeps of the quad, Steve caught sight of  _him_. T’Challa, flanked by two girls. The trio stood near the entrance of the main school building, along with someone in a suit. As if feeling the concentrated stares, T’Challa turned in their direction.

“Stevie, I’ll see you back at home, ‘kay?”

Steve spun around to find Bucky scrambling to his feet. “Wha—Buck? Is everything okay?” All of his art supplies were spread out on the blanket, so giving chase was impossible, unless he wanted his mom to tan his hide for carelessly leaving behind money. He did manage to catch Bucky’s arm when he reached for his backpack.

Bucky shot a wide-eyed stare down at the blond before his expression went frantic after he stared across the yard. T’challa appeared to have dismissed the suit, because he was now making his way towards them. Bucky yanked his arm free, ignoring Steve’s hurt expression, and snatched up his backpack. He took off in a spring for the parking lot without a backwards glance.

The short-haired girl on T’Challa’s right broke away, heading in the same direction. Steve sprang to his feet, but was forced to stand his ground when T’Challa called out and stopped him from taking action. Most people stood a foot taller than the blond, but that only made Steve more determined to put them in their place if they overstepped any boundaries. Bucky called him a scrappy puppy.

Rather than take the extended hand, Steve glared at it then directly at T’Challa. Two weeks ago, the transfer student and Bucky were practically glued to the hip. The prince may have gotten Natasha’s stamp of approval, but he didn’t have Steve’s. Not yet, anyway. “Are you bullying Bucky?”

Brown eyes wide, T’Challa shook his head. “On the contrary. I am looking after his well-being. He’s known to walk home after school, so I sent Aneka to make sure no one tries to take advantage of him. He’s not wearing his prosthetic today.”

Steve relaxed a little, subtly rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. “He wears it every now and then, but usually only when he has mixed martial arts practice.” His eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms over his chest. “We don’t need your pity either.”

“I seem to have offended you.” T’Challa placed his hand to his chest, ducking his head in an apologetic gesture. “I am not bullying your friend, nor do I think he is unable to take care of himself. I’ve seen James in action, so I know just how strong he is.”

“Then why did he run away from you?” Steve demanded.

“Perhaps he’s shy?”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Why… why would he be—? _Huh_?” was what he finally decided on.  

“I am currently courting your friend, Steve.”

Steve’s mouth fell open. Before he could stop himself, he flopped onto the blanket, arms wrapped around his midsection as he laughed uncontrollably.

T’Challa looked to Ayo, curious about the teen’s reaction. “He’s not laughing at your intentions, sire,” Ayo replied, lips slowly curling into a grin as Steve’s laughter became contagious.  
  
“I’m not,” Steve wheezed, waving one arm while his other hand reached into his pants’ pocket. “I’m… just a little surprised.” _About the casual declaration_. He stuck the inhaler into his mouth, taking a deep breath after depressing the small canister. It took just a couple of sprays before he had his breathing back under control. Steve pocketed his inhaler, removed his glasses, and wiped the tears from his face. Slipping the glasses back onto his face, he remembered Bucky bolting, and fixed T’Challa with a serious stare.

“What’re your intentions? I ask ‘cause I’m his best friend and brother and I won’t have you playin’ around with his feelings.”

As an artist in the making, Steve prided himself on attention to detail, which meant being very observant. There was no flicker or change in T’Challa’s expression. If anything, he squared his shoulders and settled into a stance that meant he was going to get his point across. Probably recite a sonnet on the reasons why he wanted to date Bucky Barnes.

“Never mind,” Steve cut in, removing his glasses to tuck them into the breast pocket of his button-down shirt. “I can tell you’re serious about him.”

Ayo’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but she conveyed her approval of Steve’s observation with a wide, impressed smirk.

“I _am_ serious about James.” T’Challa pressed the knuckle of his forefinger against his pursed lips. “I’m positive he feels the same way about me, but there was an incident. A Brock Rumlow made an appearance—a reappearance to some. James suffered a panic attack.”

“Shit.” Steve tangled his fingers in his hair, making the short blond locks even more unruly. That explained Bucky’s behavior that night. And how the hell did Rumlow get in without Natasha or Clint finding out?

“I stayed with James until he recovered,” T’Challa continued, dropping his hand back to his side. “After that, he started avoiding me. I respect his privacy, and will never overstep my boundaries, but… I really do like James. I want him to understand this.”

Natasha and Clint were right; the prince really was the genuine deal. Steve deflated with a soft sigh. “Buck won’t tell ya, but I think you should know and understand why he’s being so flighty.” He indicated to his blanket with a tired smile.

T’Challa assisted in cleaning up the art supplies before casually easing himself down beside the blond. Ayo remained standing, her back against the tree as she surveyed the area. Steve folded his hands between his thighs and sighed deeply. “Bucky had his first date during our Freshman year with Brock Rumlow…”

**-x-x-**

Aneka easily caught up to Bucky after leaving the campus. Luckily for her, he rarely took public transportation. She could also tell he was moving on auto-pilot, whatever his destination, which meant he wouldn’t notice her even if she stood directly behind him. His movements were much more fluid when he was lost in his thoughts, easily slipping between the heavy foot traffic of the city. When he actually paid attention, Bucky moved more stiffly and tended to stick close to the shadows of the buildings.

It took almost fifteen minutes for them to arrive at their destination, a two-story building with no extra markings to discern it from any other brownstone.

Bucky’s shoulders rose then slumped in what Aneka assumed was a sigh. He took the steps two at a time, carefully disappearing beyond the thick door. The Wakandan took up Bucky’s previous location and immediately noticed the placard on display at the foot of the steps. It was a simple sign; red ballet shoes that stood _en pointe_. Aneka heard the soft creak of the door and slowly lifted her head, worried that her distraction caused all her tailing efforts to be blown.

Fire red hair pulled into a loose bun at the top of her head, Natasha Romanova smiled at the other teen, giving her a thumbs up sign. Aneka relaxed, extending her right arm outward while tucking the left against her abdomen. Her bow lasted a few long moments and then Aneka straightened herself up. Bucky was in good hands now. With that thought, she took her leave. The heavy door swung shut once again.

Bucky shot a questioning stare in Natasha’s direction when the redhead glided back into the room and to her previous position at the barre. She dutifully ignored him, lifting her right leg to rest on the wooden bar in a stretch. Bucky’s attention returned to the matron when the older woman addressed him.

“Are you dancing with us today, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky lifted his shoulders in a shrug, staring around the woman’s arm to the opposite side of the room. Once, at the end of the class, Natasha managed to drag him onto the floor for a quick dance. Apparently he did better than a few of their beginners, and was always invited to join them whenever he arrived with Natasha.

“You’ve not changed your clothes, so I guess that’s a no. I await the day you waltz out onto this floor in tights, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky’s small laugh warmed Natasha’s heart and she continued her stretches gracefully.

**x**

Natasha slowly slid down the wall to sit next to Bucky, legs stretched out before her and crossed at the ankles. Almost immediately, Bucky tipped sideways, his head coming to rest atop her bare shoulder. “I’m sorry, _Yasha_ ¹.”

Bucky treated himself to a small smile. It was his name still, but with Natasha’s Russian spin on it. Thinking about his name reminded him of T’Challa. Hearing the prince call his name made him feel warm, his chest filled to bursting. But he would never experience that again. Bucky made sure of it. Brock Rumlow made sure of it.

 

_Bucky was trapped, Brock’s arms keeping him locked against the wall. Escaping was easy enough, but he could barely breathe as his heart was trampled over._

_“The only thing_ he _likes is your fighting style.” Brock sneered down at him. “I told him I knew this cripple at school that could hold his own in a fight. He told me to make you better.”_

 _Bucky inhaled sharply, but his breath caught in his throat, his chest growing tight. Brock_ had _been the one that encouraged him to join the wrestling club. When Coulson informed him that they would be doing a beta run of a mixed martial arts club, Brock was there again, whispering in his ear_ : “Wrestling’s not your style. Maybe you should try this.”

_Brock was at every match, but Bucky now saw his appearances for what they really were. Brock was never there to watch or encourage him. Brock always circled the ring, his phone focused on the match. His expression morphed into horrified realization and Brock smirked, cupping Bucky’s chin between rough fingers._

_Brock’s gaze fell to Bucky’s lips before roving up over his face and back to startled blue eyes. “It’s a shame I won’t get to play with you, but there’ll be other fish in the sea for me. Gotta transfer back to the Institute—Taskmaster’s tired of your style now. And I think everyone should know what you really are.”_

_With a startled and pained yell, Bucky fell to his knees, right hand clutching his left shoulder where Brock had ripped the prosthetic from the joint._

_“No one wants you, Barnes,” Rumlow crowed, his tone cheerfully mocking._

“ _Yasha_ ,” Natasha hissed, ignoring the pain of Bucky’s fingers digging into her left shoulder.

Bucky startled himself upright, his short nails dragging across Natasha’s skin, leaving red welts. Natasha cupped the back of his head with both hands, pressing their foreheads together. “Don’t. Don’t apologize. _I’m_ apologizing to you. Fury couldn’t deny Rumlow’s visit. When Clint heard, he came to find you, but everyone said you’d already left. We didn’t know… _Prosti_ ² _, Yasha_.”

Bucky shook his head, fingers hovering over the scratches he left behind. “It’s not your fault. It was just unexpected… seeing him again. He was talking with the prince.”

Natasha gently pushed Bucky away, letting him experience the intensity of her glare. “Don’t make assumptions, Bucky. You should talk to His Highness.”

“I did,” Bucky sighed, his eyes suddenly feeling heavy. “Whatever it was that we _didn’t_ have going on between us is definitely gone. I told him I’m not talking to him anymore.”

“ _Yasha_ ,” Natasha warned.

“It’s _my_ life, Tasha,” Bucky reminded her, tone of voice just as irritated as hers. Everyone always meddled. He knew they meant well, but sometimes he didn’t like his decisions picked at and proven to have been terrible.

“Even if you choose not to date him, you can still be friends. Friend zone him,” Natasha practically chirped, proud of her final decision.

Bucky chuckled, “Like you do to everyone at school.”

“No. That’s more of a minefield than a friend zone.”

Bucky’s loud laughter drew the attention of the adults practicing for their close and they were politely asked to go home for the evening. Bucky waited until Natasha collected her belongings. She changed only her shoes and walked out wearing her leotard tights. A jacket and wrap skirt joined her ballet outfit at the bottom of the studio steps, per Bucky’s request.

“ _We don’t need to go to juvie after beating up every asshole that approaches you_.”

The sun was setting, hard to see with all the buildings that tried to swallow them whole, but Natasha made a point of dancing into the orange light that managed to paint the sidewalk. Bucky didn’t care of his face hurt later because of all the smiling he did now. He was grateful for the fiery Russian spy-in-training that marched her way into his life. He already had a scrappy blond puppy.

When they finally arrived at the two-story Rogers residence, the sky was a deep indigo and Bucky refused to let Natasha go home by herself. “I know for a fact you live clear across town with the rich people.”

Natasha snorted inelegantly, covering her face with a hand as she laughed. “I don’t, and I’m fine. I’ll catch a cab.” She reached up and tucked a loose strand of dark hair behind Bucky’s ear. “Please, talk to the prince.”

Bucky’s lips twisted into an uncertain frown. “Okay,” he muttered. It was a lie. It was so easy to avoid T’Challa since the prince had all AP classes. That first class they shared together was T’Challa’s doing.

Natasha smiled along with Bucky’s lie. He would probably hate her for a little while, but he would thank her for her meddling. Maybe. Giving him a playful shove in the direction of his front steps, she turned towards the street just in time to flag down an approaching on-duty taxi. Natasha gave Bucky a quick wave before slipping into the backseat of the cab.

Bucky waited until the canary yellow vehicle was no longer in sight before heading inside.  Almost immediately after opening the front door, there was a clatter from the kitchen and Steve poked his head out. The worry the tightened his childish features gave way to relief. “Bucky. Thank God.”

Bucky unclasped his backpack and shrugged it off. “Were you trying to cook again, Stevie?”

“Yes,” Steve groaned, ducking back into the kitchen. His voice grew louder to accommodate for the space between them. “I wanted you to have something to eat when you got home. Have you eaten?”

“Nope.” Bucky joined Steve in the kitchen, his back to the blond as he washed his hands at the sink.

“Can we order out?”

“Nope,” Bucky repeated, drying his hands. “You’re gonna learn to cook mac and cheese today, Stevie. _Without_ half of it sticking to the bottom of the pot,” he added when Steve opened his mouth to protest. Steve pouted, moving aside to make room for Bucky.

Sarah came home early that evening and was treated to macaroni and cheese tossed with shredded rotisserie chicken leftovers from the night before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¹ _Yasha_ — ‘James’ in Russian  
>  ² _Prosti_ — ‘(I’m) Sorry’ in Russian 
> 
> ~~The Internet said so...~~


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this pre-written on tumblr. I just needed to give it a little touch up so it accommodated the previous chapters.   
> Happy Monday~

The end of term was nearing, which meant some club activities were being put on hold so students could study for finals. The mixed martial arts club still practiced, but had reduced their days to twice a week instead of four times The club’s so-called _finals_ consisted of competing with the current Captains to determine who would take over the title in the following term when those Seniors graduated.

Some kind soul had set up a practice match for Bucky. The last one he’d taken part in was when he tried to show off to their royal transfer student. He had no intention of being the club’s Captain, or even co-Captain, but he would take all the practice he could get.

Bucky wiggled the fingers of his right hand, testing their flexibility in the wrap. Smiling, he tousled Steve’s hair. “What would I do without you, Stevie?”

“What would we do without each other, Buck?” Steve corrected. “You’ve been around so long, I just see us growing old together and getting buried in the same plot.” Steve stared up at his friend, a distant look in his eyes as a small smile tugged at his lips. “But that’s still a ways away, right?” He bumped his fist lightly against Bucky’s chest. “Do you know who your opponent is?”

Bucky pulled his thoughts from the somber picture Steve just painted, and stared around the ring. “Not a clue.” Of course, they had their usual crowd–Tony, making bets, probably against Bucky; Rhodey, ignoring his friend; Natasha, waiting to point out every mistake Bucky made; Sam, looking bored, but was probably just as excited as Steve. There were a few bodies missing, but they were attending their own after school activities. 

Bucky’s attention was drawn to the gym door behind him after hearing it creak open. He turned and his blood instantly ran cold. Aneka and Ayo appeared first, which meant the one to follow was none other than their school’s new royal transfer student. For someone so tiny, Steve packed a lot of strength. In his hasty attempt to escape the ring, Bucky found himself being pushed back through the ropes by his friend. Sam was already making his way over to help with the restraining. 

“Stevie, please–”

“Bucky, c’mon. You gotta believe I didn’t know it was him. But I think you two need to work things out.” Steve pressed both hands against Bucky’s shoulders, pushing him backwards and toward the center of the ring. “Maybe… talk to him while you pummel each other into the mat.” Tossing his friend an angelic smile, he hurried back to the edge of the ring. Steve climbed through the ropes Sam held open.

Bucky’s gaze swept from the duo to the remaining trio; specifically, Natasha. The redhead’s eyes gave nothing away, but Bucky knew she was the culprit behind this match. The sudden and slight quirk in her lips was deliberate on her part. She _wanted_ him to know she was the one responsible for this pair up.

Bucky inhaled then exhaled deeply. He turned around and honest to God whimpered when T’Challa removed his sleeveless jersey to reveal a glorious expanse of dark, flawless skin. Aneka accepted the article of clothing, casting an apologetic smile in Bucky’s direction. Bucky liked her. If he survived this awkward fight, maybe he would sit down and get to know her.

Swallowing thickly, Bucky swept his gaze over T’Challa. T’Challa wore a pair of black MMA-approved shorts, trimmed with gold. They showed off the royal’s well-defined muscles, and thighs Bucky wasn’t sure he would tap out of if he got caught within them. Bucky would have worn a sweater, just to hide his arm, but MMA rules still applied in practice matches and he settled for a gray tank and simple black shorts. He huffed through his nose, shaking his head. This was no time to be getting distracted.

Leave it to Sam to break the tension. “If it’ll help you loosen up,” he started in a shout, “You both have thighs of betrayal!” Of course he would know exactly where Bucky’s thoughts wandered.

Tony outright cackled and Bucky could picture him leaning against Rhodey for support.

“I’m sure my thighs still do more damage,” Natasha chimed in.

“Nobody doubts that,” Sam scoffed.

“Your friends are interesting, James,” T’Challa deduced, taking a few steps closer to the center of the mat.

“They’re all clowns,” Bucky sighed. He shook out his arms and bounced a few times on the balls of his feet before also moving closer.

“Remember,” Rhodey’s voice cut in. “This is just a practice match.  _Please_  try not to kill each other.”

“ _Ding, ding_!” Tony chirped.

T’Challa fell into an offensive stance and Bucky into a neutral stance that bordered on defensive, but neither fighter moved closer. Bucky knew any move he started with would be easily countered. Rhodey didn’t even have to tell Tony to be quiet. Everyone on the sidelines remained as motionless as the fighters in the ring.

“You are powerful, James,” T’Challa spoke, soft enough that only Barnes heard him. “If you give me your all, I will tell you why I find you so fascinating and attractive.”

‘ _No one finds me attractive. I’m broken…_ ’ Bucky felt part of his mask crumble and hurried to rebuild his stoical expression.

T’Challa had obviously seen what he needed, if the frown he wore was anything to go by. “I will also make sure you never make such a face again.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed and he rushed forward to throw the first punch. From there, it was a series of quick punches and kicks–all deflected. There were even a few throws on Bucky’s part, but T’Challa always landed on his feet. He came flying at Bucky in retaliation, his knee catching the other teen in the chest and forcing him against the ropes.

Sam’s tight grip on Steve’s shoulder kept the small teen from running into the fight.

Bucky ducked under T’Challa’s right arm, stumbling back to the center of the ring. Now on the opposite side, he could see everyone; they were all enraptured with the fight. Even Natasha looked impressed. His distraction cost him and Bucky hit the mat with a grunt, T’Challa now looming above him. He recovered fast enough to stop the rapidly descending hands, holding them just inches from his face.

“Why are you so hard on yourself, James?”

“I’m nobody special,” Bucky panted, trying to dislodge the other teen without getting a fist to the face.

“I know of six people present who disagree and will be very angry to hear you say that about yourself. Who knows how many more exist outside of this room?”

‘ _Six_?’ It quickly dawned on Bucky that T’Challa had counted himself into the current mix at hand. Bucky hooked both legs around T’Challa’s and, in an amazing display of core strength, sat himself up and quickly reversed their positions. He pulled T’Challa’s arms across his chest, trapping the teen with his own limbs, and pinned those strong thighs with his lower body. “You don’t know anything about me.”

T’Challa bucked his hips a few times. Bucky was too heavy to completely dislodge, but he managed to create enough space between them to pull his left leg through, and easily freed himself from the mount. His transition was seamless, and soon he had the other teen trapped in a rear mount, arms wrapped around Barnes’s neck and his thighs around his waist, ankles locked together. “Then tell me since I don’t know.”

Bucky found he did _not_ enjoy being trapped between T’Challa’s thighs–not like this. He thrashed in a desperate attempt to free himself, but T’Challa was unyielding and refused to be dislodged with every roll he initiated. With a frustrated groan, he tapped at the arms around his neck. T’Challa’s limbs loosened enough and Bucky slumped forward. There was a cacophony of voices, but he could only hear himself panting. T’Challa’s arms only slid away from his waist–Bucky found he missed the contact–when the small group filed into the ring.

“That was intense!” Tony exclaimed, dancing around Bucky. “And the arm. It’s Stark-made, so of course it can stand up to this, but Barnes, you really need to let me–”

“Tony,” Rhodey warned. Tony chewed furiously on his bottom lip in an attempt to hold his tongue; in the heat of the moment, he’d forgotten that Bucky’s prosthetic should not be direct subject matter.

“The amazing thing is that was a defensive battle. At least until the end. Bucky…?” Sam arched an eyebrow at his friend.

“Defensive.” Bucky knew he was trying to make up for Tony’s slip of the tongue and waved off his attempt. Instead, he held up his hand. Sam clasped it, pulling him to his feet. Once released, Bucky turned to find T’Challa standing and staring at him. He gave him a lopsided smile. “Thanks, for the match.”

“It was my pleasure.” T’Challa bowed his head, draping a small towel around his neck. He gave Bucky such a gentle look, Bucky had to avert his eyes. “I guess I’ll see you all around campus.” Ayo followed her liege when he walked away, moving ahead to open the ropes so he could easily slip through.

Aneka lingered behind to offer Bucky a gentle smile. Her gaze swept over the entire group, approving of them. “Please take care of our Prince,” she whispered, bowing her head.

“Beloved,” Ayo called out, her voice tinged with concern.

“Coming.” Her smile now a grin, Aneka spun away and gave the group a glimpse of her abilities. With a graceful leap, she landed on the ring’s top rope, then hopped down to stand at Ayo’s side.

Once they were out of the gym, the talking started again, never holding a steady subject. Bucky preened when praise was given, especially under Natasha’s hand. His annoyance over her meddling died in the greatest practice match he’d ever had. When the redhead shifted, he was given a direct view of Steve. His expression was unreadable, but he still smiled. Whatever was on his friend’s mind, Bucky would hear all about it back at home.  

**-x-x-**

“He’s fuckin’  _royalty_ , Steve,” Bucky yelled, already fishing a dollar out of his pocket as he walked through the front door of the apartment. “Sarah! I’m putting in a dollar ‘cause I’m arguing with your son.” The table an arm’s length from the front door housed a small basket where keys and sometimes candy landed, and a full jar of coins and bills, that Bucky currently added to.

“That’s fine, sweetie. Most of the money in that jar comes from Steve anyway.”

Ignoring the slander against his innocence, Steve hurried into the kitchen. He gave his mom a quick hug before reaching around her to steal two cookies off the still-warm tray. “Ish fuh Bucky,” he mumbled around the cookie quickly shoved into his mouth.

“Bucky,” Sarah called out of the kitchen once Steve disappeared. “Did he give you the cookie?”

There was a moment’s pause before Bucky replied, “‘s missing a bite.  _Ow_!” Laughter followed his exclamation of pain.

Sarah smiled and returned to the meal at hand.

Steve flopped face down onto his bed after they retired to their room, kicking his legs childishly in the air. Bucky moved around the flailing limbs and took a seat in the chair by the window. It was Steve’s ‘sketching’ chair. Today it would be Bucky’s ‘conflicted moping’ chair. He drew his right leg up into the chair, hugging it against his chest.

“Buck,” Steve groaned, now lying on his side so he faced his friend. “It’s not that difficult.”

“I just don’t understand why,” Bucky sighed, lifting his prosthetic arm. He thought about his fingers curling and the neural interface made it happen, the toned plastic bending at the man-made joints.

“The same reason me and Natasha like you. And by association: Clint, Rhodey, Tony, and Sam.” Their group of friends was more extensive than the several names listed, but they were the closest.

Bucky tore his attention from his arm to his friend. Steve had all but dreamily sighed the last name of their ragtag group. “How ‘bout this? I’ll sit down and have a talk with the prince, if you get your head out of your ass and talk to Sam.”

“Sam.” Steve rolled over onto his back, covering his face with both arms. “You have no excuse. My excuse comes in the form of a love lost called Riley.”

Bucky snorted, earning himself a blue-eyed glared. “Sorry. I… Well… Sam and Riley are what  _we_  are. Not sure what you heard during our “share our shitty life stories” group circle, but I heard Sam telling us that he lost his _brother_  in a freak accident. Sam doesn’t put up with your shit, and stands by your side. He gives as good as he gets, but he can also be a big softie, especially for you.  _Only_  for you. Did you forget he stood up to Fury when they called you out on your mural?”

“You did, too,” Steve murmured from beneath his arms.

“Exactly! I love ya, ya big idiot, but you’re my brother. So what does that tell you about Sam?”

The silence stretched on between them, Bucky’s chest puffing up arrogantly with each small breath he took.

“Fuck you,” Steve finally muttered.

“Sarah!” Bucky hollered.

“ _Steve_ ,” floated upstairs in a warning tone.

Bucky’s smug grin was wiped from his face when Steve tackled him from the chair. Their wrestling match came to an end after Steve accidentally dislodged Bucky’s prosthetic and spent twenty minutes apologizing for the mental whiplash it caused. Bucky removed the arm properly and allowed Steve to pull him up so they could both get ready for dinner.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No idea why I've taken a liking to Aneka and Ayo so much. Maybe because they're almost mains in the newest issues of Black Panther *shrugs*

Bucky stepped out of the building and promptly backpedaled, almost bowling Steve over in the process.

“Is it the prince?” Steve muttered from behind his hand, which tended to his bruised face.

Bucky didn’t need to answer that because Steve knew there was a _very_ limited amount of people that made him switch into “flight” mode. He shifted to make room for the tiny blond trying to wiggle by him. “Oh,” was all Steve could say once he made it through.

There were three blankets surrounding one of the two large trees in the quad. They formed a unique pattern, but it meant not one of the _cool kids_ had to sit on the grass, unless they wanted to. The blankets were filled with students from Charles Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. They were staying a term at Avengers Academy while Charles Xavier himself funded the remodeling of his school; talk was that it would be expanded.

T’Challa sat with his back against the tree, Ororo against his side, as everyone laughed over a joke that had gone unheard by the two onlookers.

Steve pulled back, a gentle hand to the small of Bucky’s back. “Buck.”

“He fits right in,” Bucky whispered hoarsely, his lips trembling as he forced them into a smile. This was what he’d wanted. For T’Challa to realize he had so many options and didn’t have to settle for him. “Gifted Youngsters—maybe he should transfer there. Look, they all love him,” he added with a rough laugh. Bucky took another step backwards to leave, only to freeze again.

Had Ayo or Aneka planted a tracking device somewhere on his person? T’Challa suddenly turned in their direction and Bucky found himself powerless against that tender gaze. T’Challa spoke softly to Ororo and then everyone’s attention was on the building. Bucky snapped out of his trance and turned away sharply from the open door. He ran. When it came to T’Challa, he was always running. Why? Bucky never thought he would be the main character of a high school drama, but here it was, playing out right before him.

Brock still influenced his life. He would never be truly happy.

There was no safe haven on campus, and it wouldn’t be the first time Bucky left during the middle of the school day; Steve would make up an excuse about his arm for him. The only problem is he had nowhere to go. Bucky easily scaled the chain link fence, even with one arm, and landed on the opposite side with a grunt. With the school behind him and no real destination in mind, he began walking. Bucky’s hopes of getting lost in the crowded sidewalks died the minute Aneka appeared in front of him.

Bucky had no reason to be mad at her, so his kicked puppy expression remained. “Did His Highness send you after me?”

“No. I followed you on my own. Ayo wasn’t pleased, but I’m allowed to have a little time for myself.” Aneka smirked, one hand propped on her hip. “And I choose to spend that time with you, James.”

“Bucky.”

“Bucky,” she corrected.

“And you’ll be wasting your time if you do that.” Bucky adjusted his backpack, and tried to hide himself in the shadow of the nearby building.

“It’s my time to waste,” Aneka hummed. “If you don’t mind—can you show me around the city?”

Bucky extended his arm, never breaking eye contact with the girl. “Ta-da.” Aneka’s soft laugh eased a bit tension from his shoulders and he straightened his posture just a little. “There’s really nothing to see other than people. I was just gonna let me feet guide me, so… if you wanna tag along?”

“Gladly.” Aneka waited until he made the first move before falling in step beside him.

With each block they covered, Bucky found himself pointing out little things to the Wakandan— _“That was the alley where Steve got his ass kicked. Actually, Stevie got his ass kicked in a lot of these alleys_.”—until a familiar playground entered his line of vision. Once filled with laughter and children, it was now overrun by weeds. Bucky inhaled softly, hearing his sister’s laughter ringing in his ears as he pushed her on the swings.

Becca’s image faded away, replaced by T’Challa, who watched as Bucky climbed the rusted slide to stand proudly at the top. Bucky had shown the prince the park during their first few weeks together. Would he be able to show him anything else? Everything important to him would always be taken away.  

“Bucky.” Aneka didn’t want to jolt Bucky out of his head with unnecessary contact, and took a cautionary step into his line of vision.

The movement snapped Bucky free of his thoughts and he looked away from the playground. “Why does your prince like me? He has everything and I have not—”

“Bucky,” Aneka warned, eyes narrowing.

Bucky ached to tell someone his past, the past only Steve knew, but that person wasn’t Aneka. He would lay bare all the skeletons in his closet and see if T’Challa wanted to continue this inane courtship dance. “I’m hungry,” he sighed, turning his back to the playground. Bucky looked up and down the sidewalk to get his bearings and remember if there were any food locations nearby.

Aneka perked up. “I found this establishment—”

“Just say ‘food joint’,” Bucky laughed. “It’s quicker than reciting the dictionary.”

Had it been anyone else, Aneka would have put them in their place, but eliciting a smile from Bucky Barnes took just the _slightest_ priority over her upbringing. “Food joint,” she corrected with a roll of her eyes. “I’ve been keeping track of our movements, so I can lead us there.”

“Lead the way!”

**-x-x-**

Bucky looked around the restaurant for a clock, only to resort to his phone when he found none. He swiped across the touch screen to unlock it and ignored the several new text messages in favor of the digital version of an analog watch. They were occupying their current table for just over two hours. “School’s almost finished. Shouldn’t you be heading back?”

Aneka cocked her head to one side, a lazy smirk curling her lips. “How many times have I walked you home, Barnes?”

“Too many to count,” Bucky scoffed. “You’ve followed me to the ballet studio as well. I can usually tell when you’re there.” If he wasn’t lost in his own head.

“I don’t doubt it. You’re a very skilled warrior.”

“Thanks,” Bucky murmured with a half-smile. His expression turned contemplative the longer he stared at the small bubble that hung over the message “envelope” icon of his phone. It told him he had six new messages. If he didn’t have one from everyone that noticed him missing, all six were probably from Steve. Bucky held up his phone, shaking it in his companion’s direction. “May I take a picture with you?”

“A selfie is what they call it, isn’t it?”

“Not fond of that term.”

“Well, since you asked so politely. Of course you can.” Aneka slipped out of her chair and around the table to Bucky. There were only two chairs, but Bucky gladly scooted sideways so they shared his chair. He opened the camera app, switched it to front-facing, and held his arm outward. “No smiling.”

“No problem.”

Bucky pressed the button, mentally okayed the quality, then dropped his head onto the table as he laughed. “We look like we’re off to do battle,” he wheezed.

Aneka quietly slipped back to her side of the table and propped her head up with her hands, patiently waiting out the boy’s laughing fit. To suggest that her prince was going about his courtship wrong would be to undermine his intelligence. Aneka knew he tried his best, but there were other factors at play as well. She would wait things out and hope that everyone had a happy ending.

Bucky lifted his head high enough to send his and Aneka’s stone-faced picture to his friends in a group text. Once he was through, he dropped his forehead back onto the table with a groan. He counted the seconds in his head before the first reply vibrated the mobile device in his hand. Eight seconds. It had to be Tony. After the fifth set of vibrations, Bucky silenced his phone and dragged himself into an upright position. “Sorry, for using you.”

Aneka shook her head. “I believe you’re just letting your friends know you’re okay, and that is, in no way, using me. I, however, would like to use you.” She extended her arm, hand out and palm up. Bucky placed his phone into her hand without hesitation. Aneka took only a few moments before handing the phone back. Bucky didn’t bother checking to see what had been done. The phone was shoved into his backpack, temporarily forgotten and the duo cleaned up their trash and dumped it on the way out.

Aneka made a flagrant display of bowing after walking Bucky right up to his front steps, hiding her smile as the teen flushed with embarrassment. With a wave, Bucky ducked inside. Aneka exhaled deeply and began her journey back to the Wakandan embassy.

Bucky washed up, wrote a note on the fridge’s dry erase board— _more plums, pls_ —and snagged an apple from the fridge before retiring up to the shared bedroom. Holding the apple firmly with his teeth, he fished his phone from his backpack and dropped onto his bed. It was time to face the music. Bucky almost choked on the apple after seeing he had over twenty new messages. He opened the app and the message at the top was from Clint: _Tony n’ Steve r arguing in there_.

Bucky set the phone onto the bed, then the apple on top of it. He leaned over the side of his bed and opened a large case on the floor. In it was his prosthetic. He removed the arm, attached it, and set to work checking his texts while eating his apple. Pre-selfie texts came first.

 **Sam** – _Hey, you ok? Steve said you weren’t feelin well  
_**Tony** – _You can’t cut class and not invite me, Barnes!  
_**Natasha** – _If you decide to skip school on Friday, you can join me at the studio_.  
**Clint** – _Y DIDN’T U TAKE ME!_  o(*≧д≦)o))  
**Steve** – _I REALLY think you and T’ Challenges should talk  
_**Steve** – _T CHALLA… fuckin autocorrect_

Bucky huffed softly, taking a bite from his apple. Now for the post-selfie set.

 **Tony** – _You sly li’l shit.  
_**Tony** – _You know she’s taken and her gf could prob’ly kick yer ass  
_**Tony** – _That selfie, though…  
_**Sam** – _I just… Only you would take a selfie with royalty’s bodyguard  
_**Clint** – _u wound me, Barnes… U… oh gawd, Coulson’s gonna take  
_**Natasha** – _Clint got his phone confiscated. Be careful,_ kotyonok ¹  
**Steve** – _Bucky, what are you doing?  
_**Tony** – _Lighten up, Rogers. Let the kid have some fun  
_**Steve** – _YOU’RE the only kid here, Stark  
_**Tony** – _Sure about that? Have you SEEN yourself?  
_**Sam** – _I’m out  
_**Natasha** – _Clint here-shit’s ‘bout to hit the fan!  
_**Natasha** – _Nat - I’m tapping out_

The next ten messages were of Steve and Tony going back and forth, and Bucky couldn’t help but smile as he pictured the tiny blond texting angrily. With Steve on his mind, he sent off a quick text to his friend: _I don’t want to talk about it_ , before tossing his phone aside.

Bucky finished his apple and lobbed the core across the room and it fell into the trash can near the door. “Swish,” he sighed, the emptiness of the room suddenly becoming more apparent.

Bucky fell backwards onto the bed, automatically curling up around the nearest pillow. He must’ve been more exhausted than he realized, because Bucky woke up to street lamps and soft shuffling around the room. He sat up slowly, an uncovered yawn escaping him, and blinked away the lingering drowsiness.

“I’m sorry,” Sarah whispered, placing a gentle hand to the top of Bucky’s head. “I made you a sandwich. We can shop for plums this weekend.”

Bucky grinned sleepily. “Thanks, Sarah.”

The woman leaned down, replacing her hand with lips. “If you’re not up to going to school for the rest of the week—”

“No.” Bucky shook his head, stopping only to yawn again. “I’m good.”

Sarah smiled, idly playing with his growing hair. She brushed his bangs away from his forehead, then tucked the long strands behind his ears, cupping his face gently. Bucky couldn’t see her face properly in the dark, but he could feel the pride and love radiating from the woman.

“Steve’s sleeping in my room because he didn’t want to disturb you,” Sarah finally whispered. “G’night, Bucky.”

“Night, Sarah.” Bucky stretched his arms up and Sarah happily obliged, engulfing him in a tight hug. They pulled apart and she waved before making her way out of the bedroom.

Bucky combed his fingers through his hair, belatedly realizing he ruined Sarah’s attempts to tame it. He felt around the bed with his right hand for his phone. The left reached for the cup of water seated next to the plate with the peanut butter sandwich. He had a few new texts, one from an unknown number. The moniker read “Black Panther”, and he would _definitely_ remember typing that in. This was Aneka’s doing, obviously. “Let’s see how you intend to use me,” Bucky muttered.

Bucky’s attempt to put the plastic cup back onto the nightstand was thwarted after he opened the mysterious text, and the cup fell to the floor with a dull clatter, its contents spilling everywhere. There was a picture, but there was also a _video_. The picture had obviously been taken without T’Challa’s knowledge. One hand held a bottle of water while the other kept a hand towel pressed against his neck. Topless seemed to be his default training/exercise mode, and the compression leggings he wore left less to the imagination than the MMA shorts Bucky had already seen him in.

Bucky needed the cup of water he wasted. His mouth was dry, a fact he found out when he tried to swallow. His thumb hovered over the PLAY symbol of the video, worried that his heart wouldn’t be able to take it. His libido encouraged him to tap the screen. The devil on his shoulder reached down and helped him push PLAY. His libido was definitely rejoicing.

The phone was either propped up on a stand or Aneka had the most stable hands next to a surgeon. The subject of the video was, of course, T’Challa. The prince hung leisurely—almost twenty feet above the floor—from what appeared to be gymnastic rings. Bucky idly wondered how he got up there, but quickly remembered that wasn’t the point of the video. T’Challa gave one idle swing before pulling himself upright. He then pushed himself into the top position without a tremble. From there, T’Challa carefully drew his knees up to his chest into a tuck, and slowly extended his legs straight out into a L-sit.

Buck released an unknown warbling noise.  

**~**

Sarah distinctly remembered emptying the swear jar two days ago. The boys were pretending to be angels, so it remained empty. Until today. A five-dollar bill sat at the bottom. If they didn’t tell, she wouldn’t ask.


	6. Chapter 6

T’Challa wasn’t sure what to think of Aneka’s suggestions, but other than the small group Barnes was always with, she spent more time with the elusive teen than he did. Steve was the only one he told of his intentions, but Barnes’ friends were an intelligent lot. The Russian redhead already knew. The twelve-year-old Junior only needed solid evidence before he made a wild exclamation. The hyperactive blond knew more than he let on.

Even with his bodyguard’s advice, all of T’Challa’s attempts to spend time with Bucky were thwarted by a one Bucky Barnes himself. Whenever T’Challa got within teen feet of the teen, he would run or use his friends as a human barrier.

**~**

Steve was actually getting tired of it. “You deserve as much happiness as the next person,” he told the ceiling as it got closer. Almost immediately, it moved farther away. The process repeated itself with each pushup Bucky completed. Steve fit perfectly along his back. “If you think about it, he’s obviously serious. You’ve been avoiding him for almost two months now, and he still hasn’t given up.”

Bucky held an upright plank position as Steve’s words bounced around inside his head. The prince was steadfast—Bucky would give him that. Steve glanced to his left in an attempt to find out why Bucky stopped moving. He swung his legs around to let his feet hit the floor and bounced up into a standing position. “Talk to him. Or I’ll lock you both in the art room.”

“Punk,” Bucky scoffed, easily pushing himself onto his feet. Steve smiled innocently and somehow managed to swagger his skinny behind out of the gym. Bucky grabbed the nearby towel and pressed it against his face. He immediately remembered the images stashed away in his phone and thanked the heavens he was already flushed from his workout. “Black Panther” continued to send images—a new one every week—and Bucky could never get close enough to Aneka to ask if it was her doing.

**~**

An opportunity presented itself the following week when Aneka pulled Bucky aside after his Chemistry class. He opened his mouth to protest but immediately noticed that something was off. She hid it well, but Bucky could tell something was causing her discomfort. He waved to Steve and Tony before following the teen.

Bucky started to fall back after they exited the current building and entered the quad. He found T’Challa easily enough, but there was something different about him as well, other than his attire.

“I believe you should have your heart-to-heart today.” Aneka offered him a small smile. “Or I’ll tell my prince he’s been texting you for the past two weeks.”

Bucky opened his mouth, but could only croak in protest. He shook his head and sighed, “I think he probably knows it’s me at this point, ‘specially if he keeps letting you send half-naked shots of himself to some stranger.”

Aneka lifted her shoulders in a delicate shrug, giving Bucky a nudge in the direction of the large tree. After Bucky caught himself from stumbling, he called to mind the image of Ororo and T’Challa together under the quad’s tree. The gorgeous young woman was nowhere to be seen, so obviously the task of consoling fell onto Bucky’s shoulders. He fiddled with the straps of his backpack and slowly made his way across the field.

T’Challa lifted his head and Bucky almost lost his composure when a weary, but welcoming smile was thrown in his direction. He maintained his course until he stood in the shadow of the tree. T’Challa stood to greet the brunet with a slight bow.

“I should be doing that for you, Your Highness.” Bucky shifted nervously. What surprised him was that he didn’t feel the urge to flee.

“Even though I know Aneka strong-armed you into it.” T’Challa shot a pointed glance at the tree adjacent to them. Both Ayo and Aneka blissfully ignored him. “It’s great that you’re finally having a conversation with me.”

Bucky huffed out a soft laugh, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his hoodie. No matter the weather, he would never give up his long-sleeved attire. “We’re supposed to be having a heart to heart.”

T’Challa extended an arm as an invitation to take a seat. He waited until Bucky flopped onto the grass before reclaiming his own seat. He returned to his cross-legged position, hands resting on the cloth pooled in his lap. Bucky gave T’Challa a none too subtle onceover, but found it out of place to voice the question bouncing around his head.

The prince felt the curious stare and smiled as he stared down in his lap. “You can ask me anything, James.”

“Don’t wanna seem ignorant,” Bucky muttered quickly. “I should probably already know.”

“Ignorance is the curse of God; knowledge is the wing wherewith we fly to heaven.”

Bucky smiled almost wistfully. “William Shakespeare.” T’Challa’s chuckle made him feel warm inside.

“Impressive. You should really hold yourself in higher standards, James.” He tilted his head, drawing Bucky’s attention to the brimless, rounded hat seated atop his head. Its coloring matched his outfit; red with black trim. “This is a _kufi_.” T’Challa unlocked his fingers, making a sweeping motion over his upper half. “ _Dashiki_.” T’Challa’s thigh-length top was an ebony material with a red pattern that zigzagged their way from the shoulders down the front and back of the dashiki. He tugged at the black drawstring trousers. “ _Sokoto_.”

“And… the reason why you’re wearing it today?”

“Today is a day of mourning. And my clothing symbolizes this.”

Bucky stared across the quad and realized Aneka and Ayo also wore dark colors, though they kept a more modern style. He chewed on his bottom lip, trying to find the best way to offer his condolences, but nothing came to mind.

“Five years ago on this day, we traveled to Vouliagmeni, in Greece, for the annual Bilderberg Conference,” T’Challa started, locking his fingers together once more. “It was gorgeous, but we stayed for only two days. I’ll never forget those two days. So many were murdered before my eyes by a man that had a personal grudge against the King. My father lost his life protecting us. The assassin thought he’d killed me, but I was only knocked unconscious. I used his own weapon against him—finished what my father started by protecting the remainder of my family, and forced the coward to flee.”

Today was the day Bucky was going to share his sob story with someone new; someone he obviously trusted. “I understand more than anyone else… what it’s like to lose someone.” He bit down hard on his bottom lip, his chest tightening as he brought up the memories he locked away so many years ago. “When I said I was no one special, I meant it. I’m an orphan. My mom died when I was still a kid. I lost my dad when I lost my arm. A car accident. A semi…”

T’Challa’s hand found his right one, and Bucky gripped it like a lifeline. He never revisited these memories because it brought on an unbearable amount of pain.

“My sister Rebecca…” Bucky released a shuddering breath, drawing his knees up to his chest, curling his prosthetic around them. He felt cold. “Becca was placed into foster care, but she was adopted by a family that took her overseas. Sarah fought to keep me—almost lost her job at the hospital for trying to cut out a few steps in the adoption process.”

“A trait she obviously handed down to her son,” T’Challa interrupted in a soft voice filled with admiration.

“Yeah,” Bucky mumbled. Instead of better, Bucky’s chest felt tighter.  

A comfortable silence settled between them, only to be broken by the shrill wailing of the school bell. Bucky scrambled to his feet, only to be stopped by the gentle hold on his hand. He looked back at the other teen, wondering how long they’d been holding hands.

“Stay with me a while longer,” T’Challa insisted. “Please,” was added for politeness. The prince was in no way begging. “I’ll make sure to inform your teachers that I’m the reason you’re late. We can go back to playing cat and mouse tomorrow.”

Bucky curled then extended his fingers, looking almost longingly towards the interconnected buildings. He exhaled deeply and graced the prince with a barely-there smile. “If we’re gonna skip classes, we gotta do it properly.”

T’Challa smiled.

**-x-x-**

Steve and Natasha shared the same class and discretely pulled out their phones after being alerted to a new text. In another classroom, Sam noticed the subtle, flashing light on his phone notifying him of a new message after returning to his seat. He knew it had to be Bucky since his friend was missing from class. Clint currently sat out basketball practice on the bench, making it easy for him to check his phone. Tony unashamedly opened the new text message and a wide grin split his face, his fingers already flying across the touchscreen to send his reply.

Bucky Barnes rarely took selfies. This was his second in two weeks—a new record. He’d taken T’Challa to the nearest Handles frozen yogurt location. The image captured them sitting on the long bench that lined the wall. Bucky hid the lower half of his face with his cup, the handle of the spoon sticking straight up between his eyes. Eyes that sparkled so bright, anyone could tell he was hiding his smile. T’Challa was visible over his shoulder, intrigue written all over his face as he took his first spoonful of a colorful concoction.

Bucky almost forgot about his frozen yogurt as he stared at the image he’d taken. He quieted the insistent and annoying voice that constantly reminded him: _you can have more of these moments, if you stop running_ , and shoved the phone deep into his pocket. With steady fingers, Bucky picked up his cup and gave the prince his full attention.

**-x-x-**

That night, Steve picked up Bucky’s abandoned phone and unlocked it with a quick swipe across the screen. “Forgive me, Bucky.” He opened the gallery and thumbed through the images. His eyes grew wider with each digital reveal of T’Challa. Bucky couldn’t have taken all of them. Did that mean T’Challa was taking and sending half-naked selfies? Steve heard footsteps climbing the stairs and made a hasty attempt to cover his tracks by removing the camera app from the “recently used” screen and placing the phone back where he found it.

“I know what you did,” Bucky sighed when he entered their room. “And no, I won’t.”

Steve wasn’t able to make it back to his side of the room in time and stood in front of Bucky’s bed, arms crossed and a scowl directed at his brother. “You’re starting to piss me off, Buck. I did exactly as you said and stammered my way through a confession with Sam.” Steve breathed out through his nose. “We’re going to prom.”

Bucky cringed at the mention of the dance.

“Buck!” Steve threw his arms up. “The proof is in your phone. Your date to Handles!”

“It wasn’t a date,” Bucky sighed, moving around Steve to get to his corner.

“It was the happiest I’ve _ever_ seen you!”

Bucky snatched Steve up by the front of his shirt, lifting him until his feet dangled a few inches from the floor. “I don’t need someone to be happy!”

Steve’s only reaction was to deepen his glare. “I know that, Buck. I understand, but you can’t see what _I_ see. What everyone else sees. T’Challa brings out a side of you that no one else has.” He placed his hands over the fist tangled in his shirt. “T’Challa isn’t Brock,” Steve reassured his friend.

Bucky crumpled after hearing those words, taking them both to the floor.

Steve wrapped his arms as far around Bucky as they could go. “Bucky, please. Please talk to him.”

* * *

 Steve slapped both hands over his face when the yelling began, muffled, but obviously still loud enough for him to hear through the thick walls. “Bucky, you idiot.”

Natasha placed a consoling hand on his shoulder. When Steve came to her with his plan of getting Bucky and T’Challa together, she eagerly agreed. Using her ties with certain faculty members, Natasha confiscated the boxing gymnasium. Aneka and Ayo stood guard at the two doors that lead into the building to make sure the teens inside wouldn’t attempt to escape.

“You deserve better than me,” Bucky shouted across the gym.

“I believe I’m the one that decides who I choose,” T’Challa countered.

Bucky lowered his head, staring at his well-worn sneakers. “What about Ororo? You’re both… similar.”

Natasha had to physically drag Steve away from the building after he started ranting about race having nothing to do with love, and how Bucky should know better than to make a comment like that.

“ _I’ma kick his ass, Tasha_ ,” echoed down the hall.

With his head lowered, Bucky missed the way T’Challa’s eyes narrowed, but he did hear the warning edge to his voice.

“James Buchanan Barnes.”

“What?” Bucky muttered. His head snapped up after his brain finally caught up with him. “No! I don’t mean it like _that_. Steve would tear me a new one. Sam would probably throw me back under a truck. Hell… I would beat myself up for thinking something like that. I meant that you’re both from the same continent—both royalty. You’re both… gorgeous. And she likes you!“

T’Challa relaxed minutely. "And I like her, but it’s not the same way I feel about you.”

Bucky shook his head, pacing back and forth. “Tell me. Tell me why you like me.”

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do, Barnes?” T'Challa spread his arms. “You finally want to hear me out and I’m stuck screaming across the gym.”

“Yes.” Bucky stopped to point angrily with his right hand. “You stay right where you are.”

T'Challa exhaled deeply, crossing his arms. “You’re selfless.”

“So’s Steve, but you’re not courting him.”

“You were a victim, but also a hero. A hero to _so_ many.”

“I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Are you going to interrupt me the entire time?”

“Bucky Barnes’ history, one-oh-one: I can be a little shit. And I’m very possessive. I might get jealous if I see you with someone else. But I won’t do anything about it… and I’ll be glad for the time we had together.” Bucky went from assertive to submissive, his voice soft at the end of his declaration.

“You sound like you’re breaking up with me already,” T’Challa commented, the amusement there on his face if Bucky paid attention.

Bucky dragged his hand through his hair with a frustrated yell. “I like you, but I’d rather not have another Brock on my hands.” He managed to follow his movements, but was unable to defend against T'Challa’s speed and found himself pinned to the side of the ring.

“Do _not_ compare me to that asshole.” T’Challa’s eyes spoke of murder for the teen he’d had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting. He learned from Steve that Rumlow and Barnes dated for two weeks, but only for Rumlow’s perverse intentions.

Bucky smiled shakily, his chest rising and falling with each sharp breath. “Whaddaya know? You _can_ get upset.”

T’Challa grabbed Bucky’s shoulders, the fingers of his right hand gentle as they curled around the stump of Bucky’s left arm. “I’ve been upset for quite some time. Our first meeting, our practice match, and the anniversary of my father’s death—I spent time with you and enjoyed it. I looked forward to experiencing more of those. But you avoid me, yet spend time with Aneka. And the fact that Ayo _allows_ you two to be alone together is proof enough that you are someone worthy enough to love.”

Bucky’s eyes widened, his jaw dropping open.

“First loves start in high school, Barnes.” Realizing he’d long since overstepped the terms of their agreement, T’Challa released Bucky’s shoulders and began walking backwards to his appointed spot against the wall. The hand curled around his wrist brought a smile to his face. “I’m supposed to stay over there.” He used his free hand to point across the gym to where a pile of tumbling mats was stacked.

Bucky was too busy staring at the contrast of their hands to pay attention. He smoothed his thumb over the inside of T’Challa’s wrist, stopping after finding the pulse point. He eased his hand away, only to interlock their fingers. “I don’t know what I’m doin’,” he sighed, giving T’Challa’s hand a squeeze. “I want to date you—”

“Even though it’s the appropriate term, when you say _date_ , it sounds like it’s an occasional event,” T’Challa mused. “I’d rather this not be temporary.”

Bucky lifted his head to show the other an exasperated smile. “I wanna be with you, T’Challa.” T’Challa’s fingers squeezed back and Bucky idly wondered if it was because of his confession, or the fact that he finally called T’Challa by his name. He moved his arm backwards and between the ropes of the ring, until T’Challa was standing directly in front of him, pulled along courtesy of their joined hands.

The prince still managed to keep his distance even with the limited space separating them. “James. I have no intention of doing anything you’re against.”

“I know. I know.” Bucky gripped T’Challa’s hand tightly. They stood at roughly the same height, but that didn’t stop him laying his head atop T’Challa’s shoulder. “You’re too fuckin’ good for me, y’know.”

“I think you meant to say ‘nobody’s good enough for me’.”

“Shut up,” Bucky laughed, his breath ghosting across T’Challa’s neck. He pulled away suddenly, but with the ring at his back, he was forced to push T’Challa back in order to put space between them.

T’Challa would have been concerned if not for the way Bucky’s blue-grey eyes sparkled in absolute glee. Bucky’s excitement gave way to shyness, but his smile remained.

“Prince T’Challa—”

T’Challa’s eyebrows shot upwards in surprise.

Bucky lowered his gaze to the tooth pendant that hung from a simple black cord around T’Challa’s neck. T’Challa told him it came from a black panther he’d singlehandedly bested. Bucky called  _bullshit._ He wanted more memories of the time and stories they shared. “Prince T’Challa. Will you… go to prom with me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By George... I think they've done it!


End file.
